


All that Glitters

by Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace



Series: Tumblr Prompts [5]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Dragon AU, Dragon!Pete, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Hiatus (Fall Out Boy), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wraped Tour, and a lot of cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 04:31:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9162070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace/pseuds/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace
Summary: Pete had ‘Dragon tendencies’, like blowing smoke whenever he was annoyed or bored, the way he plays with a small flame in the palm of his hand when he can’t sleep or is going through a low, and even Pete’s attraction to all things pretty, shiny, glittering, and sparking, which they all learned long ago to never leave Pete alone within a 10 mile radius of a jewelry story or even polished gemstones. Hell. even Pete’s tendency toclaimthings and declare them part of his hoard...All in all, Patrick had gotten used to these things over the years.But this? This was fucking ridiculous..------Tumblr Prompt:Person A is actually a dragon who loves and treasures person B so much that they consider them their hoard. As such, person A is extremely protective of person B.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flames_and_Jade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_and_Jade/gifts).



> This one's un-beta'd as it is a gift to my amazing friend and beta [Flame_and_Jade](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_and_Jade/pseuds/Flames_and_Jade)
> 
> All mistakes are mine.
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Patrick was aware of many things, and if he was being completely honest, he was used to the abnormal and unusual dealings that came with Pete Wentz.

After all, Pete was a fucking dragon.

Hailing from a prestigious clan in Chicago, Pete was every bit as rash, dangerous, and protective as any typical person of dragon lineage could get. Patrick learned that early on, practically from the moment they first met with Pete had been standing on his front porch blowing smoke into the wind as Joe introduced them.

And Patrick was quick to learn that if Pete was anything like his lineage, he was fucking stubborn as hell, whether it be lyrics to song, his seat in the van, or even constant cuddles against Patrick’s will, despite the numerous thinly veiled threats and seething looks.

_“Will you quit it?!” Patrick pleaded, sounding exasperated more an anything._

_Pete only snuggled closer into Patrick’s lap, pillowing his head on his thigh before mumbling a “no” that was clearly head by all occupants of the van._

_“Dude, just go with it,” said Andy from the driver’s side, snickering. “He’s not going to quit, try making something good out of a bad situation.”_

So Patrick did.

As the years flew by, and Patrick and Pete became more than just friends, the younger boy was used to his boyfriend’s ‘Dragon tendencies’ like blowing smoke whenever he was annoyed or bored, the way he plays with a small flame in the palm of his hand when he can’t sleep or is going through a low, his monthly transformations to satisfied the itch under his skin, Patrick watching skin morph hypnotically into dark scales and wings stretched out, taking flight in the night sky or simply stalking an isolated forest on the side of the road for an hour or so , and even Pete’s attraction to all things pretty, shiny, glittering, and sparking, which they all learned long ago to never leave Pete alone within a 10 mile radius of a jewelry story or even polished gemstones.

There were just typical ‘Pete Wentz, the Dragon’ things.

One such thing that was a constant source of amusement for the band was Pete’s tendency to _claim_ things and declare them part of his hoard. It was a throwback instinct, ingrained into the fiber of a dragon’s mind –to collect, to protect, to establish what was _theirs_.

Despite he’s personality and spider-monkey-like levels of clinginess, Pete never really had much to hoard, even though it was a popular running joke amongst the guys, Pete especially playing along with the fun, running around claiming that “this” or “that” or “this single Dorito chip” was his and part of his hoard. “So no touch!” he would exclaim with a grin.

But in actuality, Pete did have a small collection that he carried with him, nothing like what he joked around with.  Always in his possession, whether it be in the van, the bus, a dressing room, a backpack, Pete always carried around a small wooden box, as big as his hand and made of beautiful oak. Everywhere they went, it came with them, and Pete was never without it or within distance, and no one was allowed to touch. _Absolutely no one_.

Patrick had asked about it one night on the bus, months after they had officially became a couple, no longer dancing around their feelings, after he had caught sight of it in Pete’s bunk.

He was prepared for Pete to fight back, to growl under his breath like he did whenever he was upset or on the defensive, but Pete only smiled, hopped up from his seat over to the bunks and came back skipping over towards Patrick, wooden box in hand.

Sitting closely beside Patrick, shoulder to should, knee to knee, Pete’s eyes softened slightly as he began to explain. _“I guess…this is my hoard, kinda…”_ Opening it with sure and steady hands, Patrick was amazed at the small trinkets within the box. They were simple, nothing extravagant or luxurious, but each item filled with meaning – an old pendant from his grandmother, a smooth river stone from Pete’s favorite vacation spot as a child, a ribbon from his sister that she had given him long ago for good luck, his first ever guitar and bass picks, the ticket stub to his first concert, the very first _real_ ticket stub that Fall Out Boy was ever printed on, and other such trinkets.

 _“This isn’t the main thing though,”_ Pete started to explain hesitantly, _“It’s like…Dragons have their hoards and stuff, but in it, they usually have their most prized treasure…I just found mine, but they don’t exactly fit in the box_ …” Patrick had looked at him quizzically, but nodding for Pete to continue. With a shaky breath and a soft smile, eyes warms and looking into his. _“You’re, like, part of my hoard now, too…”_

He knew Pete meant well, but the way it came out, put Patrick on the defensive, glaring down the older boy hard. _“Excuse you, asshole. I’m your boyfriend, not a fucking object…”_

 _“No! It’s not like that, Trick! It’s just…ugh! Just let me explain please?”_ Pete begged, looking frustrated at his own loss for words. When Patrick didn’t speak, simply crossed his arms, his cheeks pinked with anger, Pete continued. _“So, I hoard things that are treasures to me…things that I love or have an attraction too, things that are special me to…And like, you’re my prized treasure, and I don’t me that in a douche asshole way or anything, I just mean that I want to protect you because you mean so fucking much to me, man.”_  

And Patrick understood, even though the terminology threw him off for a bit, but he noticed it, the way Pete would be overly protective at times, much to Patrick’s annoyance, especially when it came to hiding Patrick’s clothes so that he could wear Pete’s, something, Patrick figured out later on, had to do in part of Pete _claiming_ and _scenting_ him with his hoodies or his shirts.

Patrick knew it was Pete’s dragon instinct coming through, something the older boy couldn’t exactly fight or ignore. But there were lines that were drawn, especially for when they were out in public, because as much as Patrick enjoyed Pete’s closeness in the safe haven of their bus, bunk, or even a hotel, he wasn’t one to show it to the world, indulging Pete in curling around him, nuzzling him, feeling Pete’s lean body close to his, but in _private._ And Pete understood, despite the pouting, and respected that.

All in all, Patrick was used to Pete’s dragon tendencies over the years.

But this? This was fucking ridiculous.

They’re doing Warped, having the time of their life when Pete has one of his _moments._ Joe, Andy, and Patrick are actually in the craft tent, of all places, getting their lunch before heading off to their booths to sign autographs, when Pete suddenly appears out of thin air, freshly rolled out of his bed and looking slightly annoyed as he practically crawled into Patrick’s lap, his arms and legs curled possessively around him like a boa.

“Hey, I thought you were still asleep,” Patrick started gently, allowing Pete to do as he please since there weren’t too many curious eyes in the tent. But instead of replying to Patrick’s statement, Pete only goes silent, body going ridged as he hooks his chin over Patrick’s shoulder, eyes flickering between gold and yellow, glaring at anyone who dares make eye-contact with him, even growling lowly in the back of his throat.

Patrick only sighs, knowing Pete must have sensed another dragon in the area or was in a pissy mood. When he gets like this, Pete goes on the defensive, growling at one who wasn’t Andy or Joe who came within touching distance of the singer.

“Pete…” Patrick starts slowly, looking exasperated. “Come on, babe…”

Pete simply growled as he eyes a tech guy from another band walking a hair too close to Patrick, noticing the way he grinned Patrick’s way. “Oh my God, Pete…”

“My treasure…” The darker haired boy simply said, almost like a hiss under his breathe, ducking his head into the crook of his neck to kiss the skin there. “Mine.”

Patrick sighed, softening slightly as he ran his fingers through straighten dark hair, trying to placid the dragon in his lap, with a simple touch. “Yours…always yours.” Patrick smiles as he kisses Pete’s temple, lips moving against it as he continues. “And you’re mine.”

He felt Pete nod before placing another kiss near his pulse. “Yours.”

Patrick nodded in return, allowing Pete to curl tighter around his body, letting Pete guard him with centuries of determination ingrained into the very fiber of his being…

As he sits, his own arms wrapping around Pete’s frame, as he finishes his meal, a dragon held snuggly in his lap.

.\\\\.

The forest was dense, trees littering the skylines, the ground covered in moist foliage- leaves and twigs crunching underneath his boots as the moon shined beautifully overhead.

It was a perfect night for one of Pete's late-night flights.

Patrick made his way through the dark forest, the moon bright enough to be his only source of light needed to navigate his way through the forest to a clearing by a lake he and Pete had stumbled upon earlier that day.

The path itself wasn't difficult to navigate, even in the silver moonlight, but the night time breeze was cool enough that Patrick wrapped himself in one of his well-loved hoodies with a familiar trucker cap perched on his head, honey brown-blonde curling at his ears slightly.

He gazes up at the sky, catching the moon through the canopy of trees, when he sees a figure glide through the sky, wings out stretched, dark and inky, as night, but Patrick knows all too well that those wings are faintly tinged with navy, brown and midnight purple color, you can only see it if the light catches it just right...It's his favorite kind of light show, when Pete out stretches his wings and moves them ever so lightly, tilting them in any light he can get, from a fire, from the moon, even from a shitty cell-phone light.

Pete's too far up to see it, but Patrick will soon.

Patrick finally comes to the clearing, the dense forest path leading to the glass-smooth lake, the moon casting a beam that reflects off the middle of it, gentle ripples caused by the wind causing the water to lap softly at the rocks on the shore.

Patrick finds himself sitting on a large piece of driftwood near the lapping water, toeing at the smooth rocks on the shore with his worn sneaker. After a minute, he hears the familiar rush of wind and smiles as he looks up, catching the silhouette of Pete's dragon form in the distance black , long and sleek, shimmering black in the moonlight.

He smiles as Pete glides low to the water's surface, his wings cutting through the surface making the water ripple out with just the tip of his wings. Then he's flying up again, dancing in swirls up to the starts and making effortless somersaults in the sky, many of them making Patrick dizzy just from watching him.

But Pete's happy and carefree, and that's all Patrick could ever ask for.

He knows Pete's been itching to fly for so long, wanting to do more than leisurely stretch his wings in the safety of their bus. He knows that's why Pete's been more bitchy as of late, picking fights with anyone he set eyes on, nit-picking at new tracks in ways he never has before...hell, even picking a fight with Andy of all people...

Pete was a ticking time-bomb, and this night off was the perfect reprieve. Two days after Pete's earlier display of possessiveness over Patrick in the craft tent, there had been another incident, when a fan got just a hair too close to Patrick when signing autographs. Patrick had nearly caught sight of the flash of yellow in Pete's eyes before the cigarette between the teen's fingers suddenly combust.

The laughed it off naturally, the girl somewhat shaken, saying something about how _"it must be a sign to quit smoking these things"_ before thanking the boys for their time and taking off. Patrick was quick to drag Pete away from the crowd for a word. As he gripped Pete's wrist, dragging him from the table, he could feel a roughness to Pete's skin that wasn't there before. When they were safe behind the buses, Patrick pushed up Pete's sleeve, eyes wide as his thumb ran over rough patches of oil-slick black scales, some spots the size of quarters, others larger, more grouped together...

 _"Why didn't you tell me?"_ Patrick asked, furious that Pete had been hiding the need to change for some time now, according to the appearance of the scales on his arms.

_"We've been having a bunch of night sets, there hasn't been time for a flight. But tonight we're good, I wanted to go for one tonight, I've just been...ugh, anxious and on edge.."_

_"No shit, Sherlock."_

But Pete's in his environment now, flying high in the sky with the stars while Patrick watches down below.

Pete lands gracefully a few feet away, mindful to land easily as to not cause any rocks to become airborne.

"Feel better?" Asks Patrick from his driftwood seat as Pete practically struts his way in his full dragon glory. Pete makes a strange, but content noise, like a growl and purr mixed together, as he nuzzles his large head against Patrick's chest.

Instead of warm whiskey brown, while in his Dragon form, Pete's eyes are a golden yellow, pupils slit, but to Patrick, he can read them just the same as he could when Pete's human. And Patrick can easily tell Pete's happy, relieved even to be able to relax in this form.

"Next time, tell me when you need to change. You get bitchier than I do, and that's saying a lot," Patrick says, running his hands along the smooth scales of Pete's head.

The dragon pulls away, eyes wide, looking taken-back, and possibly safe to say, insulted, for a lack of better terms. Patrick only rolls his eyes before giving Pete a look in return. "Don't play the innocent card, Wentz, you were just as much as a diva today that I was the whole week...you exploded a cigarette because some girl got too close to me!"

Pete nudged at his boyfriend's chest playfully, his tongue skittering out to tease the younger boy as he tumbled back, falling on his ass from the driftwood. "Really, asshole?" Laughed Patrick, no real heat in his voice as he grinned up at the smug looking dragon.

Pete took it a step further and snatched Patrick's hat clean off his head, teasing his best friend with it as it hug between his teeth. "Pete!!" The singer cried as the dragon dodged a grasping hand. "Fucker, give it back!"

Several minutes later, Patrick collapsed onto the shore, his lungs burning as he desperately gasped for air. Pete looked up, concern flashing in his eyes at Patrick's harsh wheezing. It had started out as a simple, innocent game of "Get the Hat Back", Patrick chasing his dragon boyfriend across the shoreline, the Patrick clearly no match for Pete while in his dragon form, but it hasn't stopped the singer from trying.

Pete hurriedly made his way over to his mate’s side, a noise coming deep from his throat as his head rubbed against Patrick's back, comforting him, but also listening to his lungs. "I'm fine," Patrick wheezed out. "Give me a minute...it's...it's not...an...attack," he gasped between breaths. "Just...cold air...and my...fucked...up lungs.." Pete knows that Patrick had an inhaler on him since the start of Warped Tour due to the ridiculous amount of smoking that goes on during some shows.

As Patrick steadies his breathing, Pete curls his body around him, letting Patrick pillow his body against his as the wheezing subsides, Pete dropping his hat on top of his boyfriend's head in mock surrender. Patrick smiles as he adjusts it, before allowing Pete to rest his head in his lap as Patrick reclines against his lower body, content when his mate begins to stroke the scales on his head, causing him to purr contently.

"Sometime I wonder if you're a just an oversized cat rather than a dragon," muses Patrick, his voice tinged with exhaustion. Pete only nuzzles more into Patrick's soft stomach, Pete's body radiating enough warmth to keep them comfortable in the slightly chilled breeze. "But you’re _my_ oversized kitty." Patrick added, a smirk clear in his tone.

Pete only huffed in agreement, his body coiling into a slightly smaller circle, Patrick snuggling into his side.

"Love you," he mumbles, drifting off into sleep, content to have Pete wrapped around him underneath the stars and the moonlight, by the chilly lakeshore.

Pete purrs in response, the rumble coming deep from his throat, a sense of ' _mine_ ' coming over him as he curls around his mate.

The next morning, once they're back on the bus, Pete more relaxed than he had been in months, Patrick asked about two lone scales he found on his hoodie, both oil-slick black, easily the size of guitar picks.

Pete shrugged, honestly having no clue, as he already molted during his high school years, hence, shouldn't be losing scales.

It wasn't until after a phone call with his mother that it would fall into place. Pete emerged from his bunk to find Patrick gazing at the scales in his palm, his face lighted up with a grin as he explained his newly discovered information.

"So, apparently, when a dragon has a mate, they leave tokens behind for them, to please them, y'know? Like to make them happy. Sometimes, it's in the form of scales, because apparently, back in the day, dragon scales were worth more than gold. So you've got a little piece of me to carry around with you now, Trick!"

Patrick looks thoughtful at the shifting colors of the scales in his hand, mesmerized. "You know, you dragons are fucking weird. First I'm like your personal property that no one can touch, and now your form of affection is to leave me pieces of your skin? That's kinda gross dude."

Pete only rolls his eyes, grinning as he curls around Patrick's frame, kissing his forehead. "Okay, One: You're like the best treasure ever, hence, part of my hoard...and I'm protective, leave me be," it's Patrick's turn to roll his eyes, but he doesn't interrupt. ''And two: if you don't want 'em, just toss them dude. I'll buy you something pretty and shiny to make be mine forever."

Patrick hums, molding himself to Pete's body. "Nah, I'll take the scales, they're pretty anyways..." Pete chuckles, kissing his mate's neck. "Only the prettiest things for your hoard, right?"

Pete nods. "But you're the prettiest. And you're mine, and I'm yours," he declares softly, his arms full of Patrick, absolutely content.

How could he not when his hoard felt complete.

**Author's Note:**

> So [Flame_and_Jade](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_and_Jade/pseuds/Flames_and_Jade) and I had been brainstorming ideas for this one, and I just adore our interpretations of the Dragon Au! We had too much fun hashing things out for this verse lol.
> 
> Thanks you reading, dears!


End file.
